


Pearl Diver (dive dive deeper)

by Nekojiiru



Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Other, Parent/Child Incest, Physical Abuse, Snow :), Underage Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27386284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nekojiiru/pseuds/Nekojiiru
Summary: Amity endures a series of events that make her question the love of her father.
Relationships: Alador Blight & Amity Blight
Comments: 13
Kudos: 48





	Pearl Diver (dive dive deeper)

**Author's Note:**

> "I was like "Let me use this pain and exploit it for money."" - Mitski

Amity takes her crutches to the bookshelf, she couldn't do much of anything on her own these days with this injury, so she spent her time reading from her father’s expansive library without his knowledge — She takes a book by the name of “The Old Man and The Sea” a book written by a human in the year of 1952, it's rare that human books appear in The Boiling Isle.

She hears her father's voice — she wanted to be a _Pearl Diver_ — she follows the sound of it into his study, and finds it strange that he didn't have anything to occupy himself with. Amity tucks the book in the back of her trousers so he wouldn't notice it, but knowing him, he’d probably find it anyway and chastise her for it “Father.” She answers steadily, watching him reach his arms out for her.

“.... I fear I'm a bit too heavy, with the cast and all..” Amity rubs the back of her neck nervously. There is some truth to her statement as she does have a very heavy cast, but she also loathes being made to sit in her father's lap — his willy rubs against her with every attempt to make herself comfortable. He insists, and she covertly removes the book as he takes her out of her crutches.

“How's your recovery going, mittens?” He asks, tucking her hair behind her ears. She isn't sure as to whether or not she should lie to him, if she told the truth he would feel more obligated to care for her than he already did, and if she lied, she would have to go back to doing things she didn't want to do. 

She bites her lip, trusting her intuition to make the right choice. “.. It still hurts.. I g-guess..” She answers. He looks down at her leg and then back at her. “I’ll b-be okay dad.. honest..”

He strokes his beard, thinking of how vulnerable his daughter must be — unable to care for herself, having to rely on an old world invention just so she can walk properly. “I’ll take care of you.” He caresses the side of her face and kisses her cheek — she definitely made the wrong choice.

“Would you like to read?” He asks, Amity smiles and nods, wondering what book he would read to her, and if it would be from their world or the human world. “Well, let's find one.”

“Do you want me to get… get it myself?” She asks, confused. 

He gets up from his chair, still carrying Amity in his arms, and places her in his chair so he can go find something to read. “Don't worry about it.” She watches him go, and feels more helpless than usual, knowing she can't leave this chair without falling on her one good leg and crawling over to the table.

Though, despite her annoyance, she feels comfortable in his chair especially without him in it. 

He comes back with a black book in his hand, and she hopes its not what she thinks it is — “My bookshelf has been tampered with it seems..” He mutters under his breath, “One of my books isn't there.”

Amity's face pales, if he found out she would be dead, or worse, retraumatized. “Ma… maybe… maybe Emira has it?...” She stammers, shifting the blame to her sister, and she doesn't even feel guilty as it's revenge for all the horrible things that have happened in the past. 

“I’ll bring it up to her in the future.” He strokes the back of her head as she opens the book, it appeared to be a allegorical human novel by the name of “Moby Dick” 

“Can I read?” She asks as he scoops her up and sets her in his lap again. Her father nods, handing her the book. 

As Amity reads to him, he feels more and more that she might be experienced with this type of thing — he feels like she reads to children in her off time. “Do you read to children?” He asks, and she breaks from the trance that reading for so long has put her in. 

“Ye… Yes... well... before the library incident.” 

“Hmm.” 

  
  


-

  
  


As Amity slept, her father crept into her room and moved back her sheets. “Awake, honey?”

She opens her eyes, suddenly feeling her trousers being pulled down. “E-Even with my broken r-ribcage…?” She whines, he nods slowly and presses himself against Amity as he crawls in next to her. She bites her fingers as she feels him thrust inside of her, “Gentle.. please..”

He laughs quietly, “You know I can’t control myself with you, little one.”

A hitched, breathy noise escapes Amity’s knit mouth as her father’s now fully hardened cock reaches further inside of her. He begins to rock his hips in slow, holding her steady and pressing his full weight onto her— he could feel her, from the way her little lungs would only barely inflate, to the way her heart would beat rapidly against her chest — her walls tremble and ache around him, making the pain even more unbearable. He quickens his thrusts with every passing second, unsure or even unaware as to whether or not he was hurting her as she didn't even allow herself to fully react.

“N-No! No! St…” He clasps his hand over her mouth, knowing she would utter his _favourite_ phrase over and over and over again.

_“D-Dad stop it.. it hurts…!”_

_“Please!... Enough... I’ve learned my lesson!”_

_“It’s too late for this!”_

_“I-I’m bleeding..”_

“I know it hurts.. but you know I love you.” He comforts, playing on her intense desire to be loved and accepted. He kisses her gently on the soft, exposed flesh of her neck, wondering when he should finally mark up his little girl. “Right?”

“Y-Yes dad..” She replies, weakly.

Finally, he releases. Pushing his cock through her thighs now as it dribbled out of her used twat. “Keep it warm, will ya?”

“Of… of course….” She responds quickly, hoping to get a good night's sleep.

  
  


-

  
  


Amity wakes up in pain, something that happened to her even before he crushed her ribcage. She still feels her father between her, he’s soft now, and he’s breathing down her neck. 

She could feel him move ever so slightly as she slipped herself out of him to go drag herself down the hall to fetch her crutches. “This is bollocks.. utter fucking bollocks..” She mutters to herself, gently lowering herself onto the floor and dragging her arse all the way to the door with her hands. She reaches for the knob, letting herself out, and conveniently forgetting that she had a whole set of stairs to go down. “BOLLOCKS!”

Emira opens her door to see what the fuss is about, noticing Amity dragging herself from her room. “What the hell do you think you’re doing you little tosser? Trying to get down the stairs? Are you daft, you’ll only injure yourself further!” 

“I’ll s’pose I can help you down, but only because Ed will push you and blame it on me.” Emira scoops her up from the floor and carries her downstairs. “Where to?”

“Dad’s study, I have some unfinished business…”

“Seems pretty dodgy of you, love. Well, cheerio!” Emira tosses her in there, probably cracking another set of delicate ribs.

Amity wallows in pain for a minute as her back hit the floor, wincing as she rolled over onto her side to allow herself a moment to breathe, then she reaches over for her crutches and grabs them, only for them to fall on her as her weak grasp falters, and halt her progress for perhaps another minute or so.

Her father steps into the frame of the door, zipping up his trousers and walking right in front of her, seemingly shocked by her appearance. “I should box your ears for pulling a stunt as daft as this.” 

“I know.. But I needed to get my crutches..”

“You couldn't wait?” 

“I had to.. I need to...” She looks around, thinking of something to say as her father got down next to her — she felt slightly nervous as he did, thinking he would take advantage of her in this state. “pee.. really bad..” 

“You always make this excuse.” He scoops her up and places her on his thigh, watching her steady herself as he holds her waist, propping her foot up on his other leg — “I have a question for you.“

“Yes..”

“How are you feeling?” He asks.

“I’m.. hunky dory.. i’m full of beans..”

“You can't even pretend to be happy?”

“I-I….? I am happy? What makes you think I’m not?”

“You’re never happy.” He replies, stroking her cheek and brushing hair out of her face. He’s right, she is rather unhappy, but there were a select few things that could put a smile on her face. “Your birthdays don't even make you happy.. Yet they are so meticulously planned and coordinated..”

Amity bites into her bottom lip, asking herself if she should really say what she wanted to say. “W…. Well… I…. I….” She struggles. She's crying now, and Alador looks at her, waiting for her to get it all out. “You…. You…… and….. when….. the….. the table…. and… I……”

He stares.

“You…” She blubbers, crying now. “It hurt…”

Alador purses his lips. “What hurt?” He asks innocently, knowing that the day he claimed his daughter's virginity was single handedly the worst day of her life. “You know I would never hurt you, little one.”

“Then why did you shag me on that table?!” She shouts, now covering her face as she knows she's in for it now. Alador just strokes his beard, it's getting quite long these days. “I’m… I’m sorry for saying that.. Please forgive me..”

“Here.” He lifts her up and lowers her into the floor. She expects him to rape her like he usually does, and bites her hand in preparation for the pain — _why is he putting his shoes on?_ — he takes his shoe and presses the tip against her ribcage. “Be honest. When have I ever hurt you?”

Amity trembles uncomfortably, “The… The time you flogged me for throwing up at dinner..”

“How bad did it hurt?”

“A-A lot…”

“I’m so sorry.” He answers insincerely as he dug the toe of his shoe deeper into her ribcage, she winces as they were still broken, but he didn't seem to care. “What will it take to earn your forgiveness?”

“B-Be a better fa-father…” She trembles as she answers. He thinks on it for a second, then he nods in agreement. 

He sits back down in his chair, leaving Amity to scramble to her feet as quickly as possible, “You’re right, little one.” He says, “I’ve been a terrible father.. Could you ever forgive me? Am I worthy?”

Amity takes the liquid that is his words and swallows them, nearly choking as they blocked the waterfall that is the back of her throat. She stares, betting all she had on his furrowed brow, hoping that her forgiveness would lead to a healthier relationship. “Yeah… Yeah… I forgive you, dad.”

_I forgive you dad_

  
  


***

  
  


Several weeks and vitamin supplements, Amity no longer has to use crutches to get herself around anymore, as her bones have healed.. somewhat. When she walks, she still aches, a sort of phantom pain that still lingers months or even years after it’s gone.

Amity shudders, feeling Alador’s hand at her shoulder. “Ready to go now?” He asks, patiently. 

“Yes..” Amity rubs up and down her arms, she feels nervous, all bundled up to go practice her magic. She still isn't very confident in herself, viewing the few times she actually pulled off a spell as merely coincidental or guesswork. 

Her father looks down at her with a smile, confident that she’ll do very well today. “Good girl..” He says, stroking her mint green hair. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine.”

Alador takes Amity out to a large, uninhabited space, covered entirely in snow and flora. She remembers this area posing a supposed threat to their safety, as they had to fight off a large creature last visit with what little magic she knew at the time. 

He crosses his arms, “Show me what you know.” He says.

For perhaps and hour or so, Amity shows her father what she has learned over the span of two months. Some spells from Hexside, and some spells she learned on her own time. Though, despite her dedicating her life to her craft, she finds that she still isn't as proficient in it as she would like to be. She finds that with every Abomination that his risen, she still cannot accurately combat them in a way that is sufficient and effective, she finds that despite her best efforts she is still weak. The final spawn has her pinned to the ground, and she suffers under it as Alador watches. She cries about not being able to slay the shambling beast, tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks as the snow fell overhead. 

Alador observes, waiting for her to beg or do something about it. He intentionally summoned one she couldn't defeat through conventional means, as a means of extracting desperation out of her by force. He rummages around in his pocket and takes out a cigar, holding his Emperor’s Coven brand lighter to it and taking a long puff of it. The falling snow blackens in the cloud of smoke. “Well stone the crows, dear. It would appear that you’re in a bit of a pickle.” He comments, tucking the cigar between his pointer and middle fingers. He doesn't even observe her, just comments.

“I thought you knew what you were doing when I took you out here.”

His words impale Amity like a bayonet through fresh flesh, she wants to cry now — to beg for his help — knowing she disappointed the only person who truly loved her made her hopeless, almost wishing that the abomination did kill her, as it seems to have a bit of restraint.

“I thought I was the worst father ever? Why do you suddenly need my help?” He looks down at her, getting ready to destroy both of his creations. 

Amity rubs the tears and snot out of her face, effectively messing it up more as she mixes it all with snow. “I-I’m sorry!” She stammers, struggling to piece together what she wanted to say. She didn't care anymore about the situation at hand, she put her broken teeth and bleeding mouth aside for the sake of making her father happy. She cries, choking on words, wishing he would just forgive her and take her home, maybe even give her an ice pack or something so the pain would lessen. “I-I exaggerated.. you did nothing w-wrong… nothing wrong.. I ex-exaggerated..!”

Though, when he made the Abomination go away, she quickly realized that things wouldn't be okay as she heard the rattling of her father's belt. Her hands fall all over her face, wiping and peering out in hopes that what she is about to experience is just another one of her panic induced hallucinations that she seems to have a lot of these days — but it isn't — he raped her as if she were no more than a filthy old slag, sweaty and depraved, stalking the streets at night looking for some bladdered bloke to take her to his room where she will never be seen again. He stabs through her dry twat like a dagger, thrusting in and out of her with a rhythmic precision.

She couldn't fully register the pain, blacking out and recollecting almost every instance of her anguish. She suddenly remembers her bout with _violin_ and the bard track and how she would play for her father almost every day, losing several hours of sleep at night just so she wouldn't forget to brush up on what she didn't get to the last time. In the moment, the hour, the minute, the second, the one time she messed up, he dragged her out of bed and facefucked her until she nearly passed out from oxygen deprivation — she remembers that day, she remembers it well, she remembers it like electrocution, she remembers it like drugs, she remembers it like vomit, she remembers it like blood, she remembers it well — and she suddenly remembers lying in the dirt outside of her own home, crying and trembling in the chill of the darkness as her father smashed in her ribcage with his work boots and only thought to take her inside once he considered how much attention her pitiful sobbing would draw.

The sounds of his flesh beating against hers made her sick, but she knows that it's over, as he never slows down for her unless he's truly had his fill. Her ears twitch and raise as he releases inside of her, pulling out quickly with an unpleasant squelch. “I love you, dear.” He smiles, flicking the lit cigar onto her exposed flesh, it was bound to go out anyway. He’s already up, fixing his trousers and pulling on his coat, _he’s ready to go_. 

Amity gets on her knees, her arms wobbling as she tries to get up. When she looks down, she notices that the snow underneath her is covered in blood.

“I love you too, dad..” Amity replies, and she bites her bottom lip to keep herself from crying again. 

She thinks about how her father told her in the past that he is truly the only one that loves her and that everyone else only wanted to exploit her vulnerability, that everyone else only pitied her and how _pathetic_ she truly is. _She believes him, she believes every word he says_.

_No one truly loved her, they only pitied her._

_He was the only one that loved her. When she grew older she would remember that fact, she would remember his cruelty and miss it, she would chase after it like a skinny, dying stray towards it’s last can of food. She would chase it like a high — when he was gone she would come back, when he was gone she would look for him through rooftops, through alleyways, through parks, centres, and trolleys, she would look for him, and if she didn't find him she would wait._

_She would wait for him, her love. Her lonesome love._

_“Let's go see the mountains tomorrow, little one.” He says, holding her mitten as it twitched in his._

_“Okay, dad...”_


End file.
